A/N: This is rated M mostly for language, btw. I haven't planned much content… yet… Thank you for your reviews, they made me smile. :3 Keep reviewing!

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Draco sighed heavily and sat down on his bed. Where had that bitch hidden his dye? He'd already raided her room but she claimed she didn't know about it. He'd have to go back to the secret stash in the Slytherin boys' dormitories. He'd always hidden a few bottles there in case something like this happened. But he needed to do it now, he'd arranged to meet Pansy before breakfast and she'd be disappointed if she knew he wasn't naturally blonde all over. And he didn't want her to see his roots. He decided he'd go and look for his stash in the Slytherin dorms. He pulled his school shirt and trousers on, not bothering with doing his buttons up on his shirt. He grabbed his wand from his desk and tapped himself over the head, shuddering as the feeling of ice pouring over his back spread over him. He looked at his hands and felt satisfied when he saw he was looking at the wooden floor instead of his fingers. He padded bare-foot out of the common room, careful not to wake Granger, and crept along the corridors until he reached the dungeons. He whispered the password and quickly snuck into the common room. He ran through the almost-crowded room to the boys' dormitories. As soon as he was in the dormitory, he dived under his old bed and pulled the loose floorboard up, grabbing a bottle of dye. As he crawled out from under the bed with very un-Malfoy like grace, he realised he could see the bottle through his invisible hands.

"Fuck!" he hissed. He'd forgotten he couldn't turn objects invisible, though this was supposedly easier than making a person invisible.

He tried cramming the bottle into his pocket and had to cover the top of it with his shirt when it poked out. His heart hammering at being discovered, he crept back to the common room. He dodged around people, trying not to be walked into. He spotted Pansy sitting in the corner, playing cards with Crabbe, Goyle and Blaise. As he passed them, he reached out and grabbed Pansy's butt. She jumped and leapt around to see who had touched her, Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle looking confused. Stifling his laugh, he dodged out of the common room and raced back to the Heads' common room. As he passed a broom closet, he heard something fall over inside and someone hiss, "Shut up!"

His Head Boy instinct taking over, he decided to investigate. The closet door was slightly ajar and Draco peeked in. His eyes widened when he saw the Weaslette and the Boy Who Wouldn't Die making out inside. His stomach turned and he backed away. Did the Weasel know about this? He could use this for some serious taunting. He ambled back to the Heads' common room, thinking about how he could use this against Granger. But what if she already knew? She probably didn't, she was too busy with her books and homework to notice what was going on between her two best friends. Draco laughed bitterly as he stepped into the common room. The portrait swung shut behind him. He made his way to his bedroom and threw the bottle of dye down on the bed, before tapping himself over the head and shivering as the sensation of cold water pouring down his back swept over him, making him visible again. He picked the dye up and took it into the bathroom. He looked at Granger's door, and stood still for a minute. He could hear her breathing deeply and slowly from within. He shook his head, wanting to get back to what he was originally doing. Granger snuffled and the bed springs groaned quietly and she turned over. That was it; Draco was going to look at her. He was curious – he had never seen Granger asleep before. He rested his hand on the door handle, knowing that if his door was unlocked, so was hers. He quietly pushed the door open and peered in. Moonlight streamed from the gap between the curtains at the window, lighting a patch on the bed where Granger lay. She was still dressed and Draco assumed she'd fallen asleep before she'd gotten changed. He edged into the room, his eyes on Granger the whole time. She was on her side, cradling a book. It was the same one she'd been writing in when he barged into her room earlier. He sat down on the edge of the bed and tried to prise the book from her arms, but she wouldn't budge so he gave up trying in case he woke her. Draco didn't know how long he sat and watched Granger sleep, but he found himself drifting into a light doze every so often. He woke up slightly from one of these light dozes to find himself lying next to Hermione, her perfect sleeping face close to his. For some reason, he didn't want to move. He knew he should; his family would be enraged to find out he was in a Mudblood's bedroom, let alone lying next to her on her bed. Sleep numbed his thoughts and lulled him unconscious.

-

Hermione woke up with a start and made to stretch but found herself restricted by someone's arms. She wriggled around and found herself face to face with Malfoy. She yelped and shuffled back, forcing his arms off of her. Scrambling off of the bed, she stared at the sleeping Malfoy with wide eyes.

What happened, what happened, what happened?! she thought to herself.

She shut her eyes and placed the tips of her fingers on her temples, trying to remember everything that had happened the previous night. She'd been writing in her journal, and then Malfoy had stormed in, he'd shown her more than she'd bargained for and then he'd stormed back out again. Nothing had happened, right? She'd just fallen asleep with her journal in her arms.

Hermione opened her eyes again. Malfoy had rolled over on his back, his arms spread wide. Hermione noticed his shirt was undone. Her eyes traced over his defined stomach and chest before she caught herself.

Stop it, Hermione! she scolded herself. Just get him out of your room!

She gingerly poked his arm and his face twitched in response.

"Uh, Malfoy?" she said, shaking his arm. His skin was warm, which she was surprised at. She'd always assumed he was as cold as his heart. Malfoy grunted a little, his face pulling into a slight scowl – he didn't want to wake up.

"Wake up, you git," Hermione hissed, shoving his arm and forcing him to jolt awake.

"What? What happened?" he growled, his voice hoarse from lack of use over night. He blearily looked around and saw Hermione standing over him, looking worried.

"Nothing," Hermione replied. "At least, I don't think so."

"Why the hell are you in my room, Granger?" Malfoy asked, ruffling his hair and yawning. "And why the hell is everything in Gryffindor's colours?" Then his eyes widened.

"You're in my room, Malfoy," Hermione replied, folding her arms across her chest and sighing.

Malfoy leapt up, a scared look on his face. He ran to the door that linked their bathroom and charged through to his room, slamming the other door in his wake. Hermione rolled her eyes at his over-dramatic realisation. She sighed and sat down on her bed. The duvet was ruffled where she and Malfoy had been sleeping. She shuddered. Why the hell had he been in her bed? She smoothed the sheets out, pondering over this question. He was an arrogant, stuck-up ferret and also her sworn enemy, purely because his family was associated with Voldemort. He'd caused her and her friends a bit of grief around school, but she'd always risen above it. He was, after all, a lowlife, slimy scumbag, who just happened to be the Head Boy and therefore she had to spend most of her time with him. In short, Hermione hated him. She cast her eyes over the empty bed again and saw her journal, flung to one side. She thought about what she'd been writing in it. She'd have to start planning the ball today – there was so much to do – and so she'd have to ask Malfoy to help. Malfoy's sleeping face drifted into her mind. He'd looked at peace. She'd never seen him like that. His face was usually contorted into his trademark smirk or a scowl when things didn't go his way. She hadn't noticed how good looking he was. Of course, she knew that most of the female population of the school fancied the pants off of him, but she'd never been one to fall for looks alone. Personality was just as important in her books. And a good personality was something that Malfoy lacked. Sighing again, she stood up and changed out of her school uniform. She had free periods for the first two lessons of the day, and according to the clock on her bedside table, she'd just missed breakfast. She decided to go and find Ron and Harry and stay with them for a bit, desperate not to have to deal with Malfoy any more than she had to today.

-

Draco collapsed onto his bed. What had been thinking?! She'd woken up and found him lying next to her on her bed, of course she'd freaked out. Anyone would if they found the person they hated most in their bed. He cast his mind back to last night. He'd been watching her, he remembered that, and then he remembered seeing her face up close, slightly uncomfortable at the thought of being so close to her. Granger had a pretty face when she wasn't glaring at him. He covered his face with his hands and sighed. This wasn't going to go down well when his friends found out, let alone his parents. Knowing Granger, she'd tell the Weaslette and it'd be all over school like wildfire. Desperate to get out of the Heads' dorms, he quickly got changed. He had two free periods, like the Gryffindors, and wanted to go and see Pansy so he could set his mind back on the right tracks. He couldn't understand – he hated Granger. What had possessed him to watch her sleep? Even more so, what had possessed him to sleep next to her? Pulling on a clean shirt and quickly doing the buttons up, he fastened his tie around his neck, slipped into his socks and shoes, gelled his hair back to it's usual perfect style, grabbed his robes and walked as quickly and as naturally as possible out into the common room. Unfortunately, he had hurried out of his bedroom at the same time as Granger did. He froze, as did she. He was the first to move again.

"Malfoy, we need to talk," she said as he reached the portrait hole.

"What about, Granger?" he snapped, turning around to face her. Her face looked flushed and her hair a little bushier than usual, giving her the look of an embarrassed squirrel when coupled with the two front teeth that were gnawing at her bottom lip. Draco smirked to himself at this.

"About last night," she said, her voice so soft he almost didn't hear her. He suddenly panicked, rage flooding through him.

"Nothing happened," he grunted, his smirk turning to a scowl.

"Good, that's all I needed to hear," Granger said, sounding relieved. He turned to leave again but was stopped by Granger talking once more. "You need to help me with the plans for the ball tonight, Malfoy."

"I already told you, I'm not getting involved," he said, not bothering to even face her.

"But you have to," Granger said, again stalling him in his attempt to leave. "We're the Heads; we have to do these things together."

"Shut up, Mudblood. I'm not doing anything with you. Remember that," Draco snapped, climbing through the portrait hole and heading to the Slytherin common room. As he left, he heard Granger sigh loudly.

-

Hermione arrived back in the Heads' common room at six that evening. She'd avoided Malfoy all day, including in Potions when Snape tried to pair them up. She'd insisted that Neville needed help and he eventually let her pair up with him for fear of Neville blowing the dungeon up. Ron, who was stuck with Malfoy, sent a few 'Help Me' looks in her direction. In the end, he reluctantly agreed to chop some beetles up. Hermione grimaced apologetically at him as he sat, sulkily whacking at the beetles, completely at random.

Hermione flopped onto the sofa infront of the fire, trying to decide what to plan first. She had to tackle this ball more or less on her own – Malfoy wasn't going to help and that was the end of it. As she was pondering over which band she should hire to play, the portrait hole opened and Malfoy climbed in, his usual Malfoy haughtiness returned. Hermione couldn't believe he was the same boy who had looked so innocent and peaceful earlier that day.

"What are you looking at?" he barked, glaring at her. Hermione shook her head lightly and turned back around to look at the fire.

Malfoy stomped loudly to his room, making his presence definite so that Hermione found it impossible to pretend he wasn't there. She pulled a piece of parchment from her bag along with a quill and scribbled a quick note to all the possible bands that could play at the ball and then retired to her bedroom.

-

Draco sat down on the chair infront of his desk. His day had not been a good one. He'd started by going to see Pansy and she kept flopping all over him, playing at being a dependant, honest girlfriend when everyone who knew her name knew she was currently cheating on him with about seven other boys. That had pissed him off because he didn't like being touched and leant on constantly. Then he had to pair up with the idiot Weasel in Potions and had had house points deducted because the git had refused to help properly and the potion had just simmered and smoked vacantly when they presented it to Professor Snape. That had pissed him off even more. He'd then had double Transfiguration and just being around Gryffindors for that long had pissed him off. He folded his arms on his desk and rested his head on them. He knew he needed to help Granger with the stupid ball planning but he really, really didn't want to. Balls weren't his cup of tea. His parents were always holding balls and he was forced to dance with several daughters of his parents' friends. Draco didn't like to dance, nor did he like being fawned over by twenty-seven ugly pre-teen girls all at once, contrary to common belief. Infact, Draco would rather have one stunningly pretty girl of his age at his side, rather than nearly thirty pug faced pre-teens. For some reason, Granger's face drifted into his mind.

What the hell…? he thought. Why would she come to mind?

Somewhere, deep down, Draco answered himself.

Because she's pretty and you know it. You're just reluctant to admit it because she's a Mudblood.

Draco sighed. Fuck off, conscience.